


Shatter Me

by FayerieQueen (MarriedHeathens)



Series: Lucretia [2]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Multi, The Stolen Century, and magnus doesnt know what the hell to do with his little sister, davenport has a Captain's Crisis, it goes about as well as anyone expects, lucretia endures suffering for her team to try to keep them safe, the family that suffers together stays together???
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-24
Updated: 2018-08-28
Packaged: 2019-07-01 21:18:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15782313
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarriedHeathens/pseuds/FayerieQueen
Summary: Cycle 65 was the worst she had ever endured, until it wasn't.Or: Lucretia needs to learn that self-sacrifice is not always what's best.





	1. Sacrifice

She survived the Judges World for them, and now she will die for them.

They’re arguing; she can hear them even now. The Light is the only thing they’re here for; it doesn’t matter what the people of this world consider it. God or judge, gift or curse, they have to take it and go. It’s already in their possession. But even so, Davenport argues, the village has their ship caught in a gravitational pull. They’ll have to compromise if they have any hope of escaping this cycle in time.

“With all due respect,” Taako says, and Lucretia can’t help but smile at the tone of this voice, “it’s absolute _horseshit_ that we have to do this.”

“I agree,” Lup adds. Siding with her brother as always. “Like, I get that this is their world, but we can’t leave the Light behind. The Hunger will be here within the next few months, and we can’t afford to just sit around and wait for it.”

Davenport sighs, and Lucretia can hear him pacing. She hadn’t wanted to join the group discussion, locked away in the common room, but now she wishes she had. Someone needs to record this. Someone needs to be there to transcribe their arguments and this dilemma, but that can wait. She can write it from memory.

“It’s not-- it’s not that I don’t agree with you all,” the Captain says, and Lucretia winces at his stutter. This cycle seems to have really gotten under his skin, “but inaction is surrendering, just as anything else would be. We have the Light. We have to escape with it. If that means one of us must bow to their laws, then so be it.”

“I’ll do it.” Lucretia hears Magnus stand, feels her heart squeeze in her chest. No. No, no, no. Not him. Anyone but him. “I can handle it.”

Taako snorts, “Sit the fuck down, Mango. I think you’ve taken enough punishments to hold yourself over for the next decade.”

“Then who do you suppose goes?” His voice is soft, but she can hear the heat behind his words. This is a losing battle, Taako; Magnus always rushes in to protect his family. “Merle’s our only healer. You and Lup have the strongest magic out of all of us. Cap’n’port and Barry know how to fly the ship! Seems like I’m the only oddball out here.”

“ _Horseshit_.”

“Enough.” Davenport’s voice cuts through the argument, and both go quiet. “The decision’s been made. Like Magnus said, both Barry and I know how to fly the ship. I’ll go. I’ll speak with their elders. None of you are to leave the ship. That is an _order_. Whatever they decide to do, whatever the conclusion they come to, you all will be free to restart the cycle.”

Chaos erupts, and Lucretia feels her stomach roll. She can hear them all arguing, trying to dissuade their captain, but she can’t make out the words. Her heart claws at her throat, desperate to escape. Blood pounds in her ears, drowning out even her own thoughts. Slowly, she stands. Journal closed, teacup left behind atop the blue-bound book. Magnus was right, she realizes, and doesn’t even notice she’s making her way out of the kitchen. They each have an important role to play, and Lucretia’s can wait. Her crew comes first, she tells herself. Family comes first.

They’re still arguing when she reaches the bay doors, one hand resting briefly on the wall as she struggles to catch her breath. Her thoughts are moving too fast for her to discern them, but she doesn’t have to. She knows what she has to do. Lucretia rests her hand against the scanner.

The bay doors open, and she leaps.

* * *

The next morning, Davenport dresses his best. His normal dress shirt and slacks, along with his red jacket. If this is to be the day he dies this cycle, then so be it. At least he will go representing his crew, his ship, and his mission well-dressed. It’s not at all because he’s delaying the inevitable, or simply because he wants to spend a minute more with the crew he’d grown so fond of. No, he simply wants to look his best.

“Captain?”

It’s Magnus who greets him when Davenport enters the kitchen. Magnus who is pale and shaken, his eyes wide and red. The gnome’s stomach immediately twists.

“What happened?”

Magnus looks away, and Davenport turns to Taako, to Lup, and both look away. In their stead, it’s Merle who speaks up, holding out a small scroll. “They’re releasing us at midday, Cap’n. They’ve been satisfied.”

“What?” He takes the scroll they offer. His eyes glance over it quickly, skimming the message. His ears pin against the back of his head. “I don’t understand.”

“They’ve been satisfied,” repeats the cleric. He can’t seem to meet Davenport’s eyes. “They got what they wanted, and are willing to let us keep the Light.”

“I know what it means! I just-- I don’t--” He takes a moment to survey the room. The Twins, Magnus, Barry, Merle, all who were present at the meeting yesterday accounted for. There’s a discarded book on the island counter, a cup of tea sitting atop. Lucretia had been there for breakfast, then? It only takes a second look at Magnus, eyes swollen and red, for it to click. “No. No. No, she couldn’t have.”

Magnus buries his face in his hands.

He’s running down the hall before he even realizes it, pushing himself as fast as these _damned clothes_ would let him. Her name is a plea and a prayer on his tongue. It can’t be true. She wasn’t there. She wouldn’t have known what they wanted. Of course she did. She always knew everything, even when no one was around to tell her. If she had been listening, then she would have heard his order. She knows better. She--

He skids to a stop outside of her room, pushes the door open. Empty. Bed still made, not even touched from the night before. Davenport stumbles backwards, trips, and finds himself falling flat on his ass. The world around him is spinning, and his chest is suddenly so very heavy.

“Lucretia.”

* * *

In the end, they decide against death.

It’s surprising, all things considered, but Lucretia knows better. Sometimes death is mercy; sometimes living can be more of a hell than dying ever could be. Especially with the way the jury looks at her, whispers, points. She and her crew have taken something invaluable, and so something invaluable must be taken from her as well.

It’s better her than Davenport, she tells herself. They lead her away. Better her than Taako or Lup, given their strength in magic. Better than Magnus, than Barry, then Merle. She is no true wizard. She is no healer, no scientist, no Captain. She is simply _Lucretia_ , and she will take this pain for them.

She can do it, for them.

* * *

They keep their word.

At noon precisely, the bond engines begin to whirr normally, and the Starblaster lifts from the ground. Merle sags. Barry forces a smile. Taako and Lup don’t bother reacting, instead they stare out the window. Taako’s ears are the only indication he’s feeling anything at all, while Lup seems to be _vibrating_ in her rage and grief. They can all smell smoke in the air, and Davenport has to remind her no fires on the bridge.

“It’s going to be okay, Captain.” Magnus moves to stand next to the gnome, hands clasped behind him. His eyes are clearer now, but Davenport knows the truth. It’s in the way Magnus holds himself, the way he seems to think before completing a thought. He’s not completely there, and perhaps wouldn’t be until they left this cycle behind. “We should only have another month or two. We can… We’ll be able to come back from this.”

“We always do.”

The words are bitter in his mouth, but still Davenport forces them out. His grip on the wheel is too tight, too harsh. His knuckles are white. He can’t feel his fingers. But he doesn’t let go of the wheel; not yet. They have to be clear of this godsforesaken city and its horrid people. He is the Captain. He is their _leader,_  and he should have been the one to take the punishment for their crew. Not her. Not Magnus. Not _anyone else_.

Softly, just barely loud enough to be audible, Magnus repeats, “It’s going to be okay.”

* * *

There’s something about coming back to life that’s terrifying.

Lucretia had learned that during the 67th Cycle; her first and so far only death. But while coming back from death is terrifying, there’s something so _unsettling_ about feeling your body snapping from one point in the universe to another. She sees her family start to rebuild; first Magnus, then the twins, Barry, Merle, and finally Davenport at the wheel. Stone-faced as always, and it only hardens as he turns around, counting each of them. When he finds her, Lucretia’s stomach drops. Or maybe that was her body finally realizing she’s back. She’s here, and she’s _alive_. Not that she ever died in the first place.

Magnus is the first to break the stillness. He runs over to her, lifting her into his arms, and it takes all Lucretia has not to panic. His arms closing in on her, his shadow overwhelming her. She is weak beneath his grip, helpless to fight back. Her feet leave the floor as he brings her up, burying his face in the crook of her neck. Despite promises made so many cycles ago, Magnus is apologizing now. It breaks her heart.

“I’m okay,” she says, and runs her fingers through his hair. She’s everything but okay; she wants to turn, to run, to flee, simply because she _can_. She’s not held in one place, sustained only by the magic flowing through her. But he doesn’t need to know about that. None of them need to know what she’s endured. So she turns her head, presses a kiss to his temple. “I’m home, Magnus. I’m home.”

“You gave us quite a fright, squirt!” Merle slaps her leg gently as Magnus lowers her to the ground. He’s grinning, and Lucretia forces herself to smile back at him. “I didn’t think Magnus was ever going to come out of his room.”

Magnus’ arms are replaced by one of Lups, pulling her closer as she uses her other hand to ruffle her hair. “If you ever do that again, I am going to light every single one of your journals on fire! You understand me?”

“I get it, I get it!” She’s laughing, but the sound is different, at least to her own ears. Lup and Merle don’t seem to notice, though Magnus glances down at her. She tries to smile up at him, holding her hands up defensively. “But, hey, we all have to die sometime, right?”

“Oh, don’t you start that horseshit with me, Lucy!” Taako now, grinning over at her. He hooks his arm around her elbow, leading her away from the gathered crowd. Magnus follows, as does Lup, but Merle stays behind, hands in his pocket. “We’re gunna get you somethin’ to eat. First day of a new cycle and we’re already breakin’ out Taako’s Special Hot Chocolate. Hope you’re proud of yourself, babes.”

Lucretia laughs as they lead her away. For a moment, Merle simply watches the way they all hurry off, clinging to each other, and can’t help but smile. They are all just _children_ , and gods be damned if they didn’t deserve to break out the Special Hot Chocolate every once in a while. With that in mind, he sighs, turning to look at their Captain. Knuckles white, eyes staring out the bridge window before them. Shaking his head, the dwarf moves to stand beside the gnome.

“You doin’ all right?”

“I’ll be fine, Merle.”

“Will ya, now?” He reaches over, to rest a hand on the other’s shoulder. “Ya know I’m here, bud. If you need anything. anything at all, I’m just a call away. This shit ain’t been easy on any of us, Dav, but you don’t gotta suffer through it alone.”

Davenport opens his mouth to argue, but instead sighs. His hands loosen their grip, “I know.”

* * *

They spend an hour just chatting in the kitchen. Lup and Taako go on and on about the previous cycle; spinning stories about parts she was there for, and parts she wasn’t. She laughs just the same, feeling her chest warm as the twins bounce off of each other. Reacting, engaging, showing every bit the connection they shared. Magnus doesn’t leave her side, his hand clasped gently over hers. She leans her head against his shoulder, sipping her hot chocolate, and Magnus rests his head atop hers. Even Barry joins them after a minute, filling in details that Taako and Lup either didn’t know or didn’t care enough to add into their stories.

“You sure you’re going to be okay?” Magnus asks, once the others have left and the dishes have been done. The kettle behind him whistles, and Lucretia stands, but he’s faster. He snatches up the kettle, pouring the water into a teacup. “You’ve been quiet lately.”

“I’m just tired,” she admits, rubbing her eyes, taking the offered teacup. “Thank you. It’s… I just don’t have as much experience with coming back as you guys do. That’s all it is. I’ll be all right after a long nap.”

He nods, placing the kettle back onto the stove, and leans over to kiss her forehead. “I’ll be in my room if you need me, Lucy. We should be setting down tomorrow, so… so hopefully we can get back onto the ground and get you up and runnin’. I love you, Luce.”

“Love you, too, Maggie.”

She’s alone for another few minutes before footsteps approached. Her head droops, eyes closing. She would know that pace, that gentle clicking anywhere. And it’s only now she prays for another few moments alone, for a moment to just collect her thoughts. It doesn’t happen. The universe simply cannot allow for her to have a second for herself. So Lucretia straightens her back, turning to the gnome as he enters the kitchen.

“Don’t you even start.” She’s got one finger lifted, extended out to him, with her cup of tea held gently in the opposite hand. Lucretia takes a moment to simply enjoy her tea, taking a few sips, and then motions, “All right. Proceed.”

“That was a _stupid_ thing you did.”

She nods, as if he wasn’t scolding her. “I’ve earned that one. Anything else?”

The tips of his ears grow hot, and he feels the rage building within him. He doesn’t direct it at her; she hasn’t done anything to deserve it. She has. She has, he reasons; she’s disobeyed his orders yet again. But still, it’s he who failed them. He who failed _her_. It doesn’t stop from his hands from balling into fists down by his side. “You disobeyed a direct order and put your entire team in danger.”

“Half of that was correct, sir.” She slumps into the bar stool, placing her tea onto the bar gingerly before continuing, “I disobeyed your order, but I _saved_ the team. We had the Light. You all deserved to continue moving on. You deserved to have the chance to see this cycle through.”

“And you didn’t?” His voice rises slightly in pitch, and Lucretia winces. “I told you what I was going to do, and you went directly against my orders!”

“Acknowledged,” she says, in a tone that is enough to stay his anger. She looks exhausted, despite being freshly formed, and turns her gaze to her teacup. Trembling fingers lift the cup once more, bringing it to her lips. “Did everyone else make it?”

Unable to hold onto his rage, Davenport sighs, glancing away from her. Deep breaths, count to ten. It’s a new cycle. They’re all alive. They’re alive, and that’s all that matters.

“We had no more trouble afterward.”

She nods, closing her eyes.

“We need to talk.”

He tries to keep his voice from shaking, stuttering, and perhaps it comes out a bit too strong. She flinches from him, looking away, but places the teacup aside. She nods again, loosely. Still not meeting his eyes.

“I understand, Captain.” She pushes herself up, clasps her hands before her. “Lead the way.”

He hesitates, but quickly spins on his heel and leaves the kitchen. He can hear heels clicking behind her and knows she’s following, but it’s not the same. Something doesn’t _feel right_ . Still, he has to see this through. He’s their _Captain_ , and he won’t stand for them disobeying. Not for something as important as this. His pace quickens, and so does hers. He hears her miss a step, then quickly correct herself.

He reaches the door to his office and hesitates, taking a moment to collect himself. Deep breath, organize your thoughts. Good. He opens the door and motions for her to go through first, which she does, but only after a brief moment of just staring at him.

Once she’s inside, he follows and shuts the door behind them. Motions for her to take a seat at his desk. She sits without a word, but something is off; the way she seems to collapse instead of sitting straight; hands resting limp in her lap, instead of clasped. Looking at him, and yet somehow not seeing. He sits at his desk. Sighs.

“What have I done?”

She turns her head to glance at him, confused. When she speaks, it sounds hollow, “What do you mean, sir?”

He motions briefly around them, “This. All of this. What have I done to make you and the others not _respect me_?”

“I don’t… I don’t understand.”

“I give orders, and… and none of you listen. You run off, you do things like _this_. You _die_ because you don’t obey my orders. What have I done to make death a better option that following my orders?”

“I didn’t die.” She lets it hang in the air for a moment too long. She can’t seem to meet his eyes, or even look in his direction. Her hands clench, stealing fistfuls of fabric between her fingers. “They didn’t have the mercy to kill me.”

He doesn’t know what to say to that.

“But to answer your question, I—” Her breathing hitches in her throat. She looks near him but not at him, seeming to see something just over his right shoulder. Something that isn’t there. Her hands tighten their grip, knuckles lightening with the force of her grasp. Her breathing quickens. “I don’t…”

He leaps onto his desk, moving to sit on the edge, just before her. One hand reaches out, and he carefully removes one of hers from her robe. She’s shaking, he realizes. Trembling, and she doesn’t even seem to notice that he’s touching her. Still, he remains; an anchor. It takes him a minute to realize he’s murmuring, saying words he can’t quite process. She’s here. She’s safe. His Biter is safe, and she can take all the time she needs.

It happens, slowly but surely. Her breathing regulates. She blinks a few times, in quick succession, and then finally looks at him. Finally _sees_ him. Her hand loosens its grip on her robe, though she doesn’t release his hand.

“It’s hard,” murmurs the woman. One ear droops, the other lifts, and she continues, “I don’t— I can’t speak for the others, but I don’t… I didn’t do what I did to disrespect you, Captain.”

“You disobeyed an order,” he says, quieter than he intended. “A direct order, Lucretia. You’re bright enough; you know, you know what that does to the morale of the crew. And then you go off and… _Gods_ , Lucy.”

“I didn’t mean to disrespect you. I— I know the crew _needs you_.”

“We need you, too.”

She shakes her head, finally pulling her hand free. “Not like you. You’re our _Captain_. I know it’s… it’s been difficult, sir, but not everything we do— not everything is an attack on your character. We believe in you. We need you. They need you. I needed to know my Captain would get our crew through this cycle, because I know, I know you can do this. You’ve already led us through so much.”

She reaches up, to wipe her face, and he notes her hands are still shaking.

“I love you too much to have put you through that. Especially now. Especially now, knowing what it is they intended as punishment.” Lucretia’s breath hitches, voice breaking on that last word. He extends a hand, offering, but she pulls in on herself. “Don’t. Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me. I can’t. I can’t right now. I’m…”

“Lucretia?”

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I can’t--”

Davenport scoots back a bit, just enough to give her space. “We can talk about this later, if you need to.”

“No! No, no, I need to…” Her fingers fumble with the clasp of her robe, but she’s able to remove it, to toss it away from her. A simple dress beneath, and Lucretia quickly loosens the laces around her neck, just enough to allow her to breathe more freely. Her eyes shift from him to the wall behind him, around him, and then return to his face. Only then does she slump, gasping out a soft sob. “I’m sorry. I let you down, and I can’t-- I can’t make up for that. I can’t fix that. But I can… I _will_ try to fix what I can.”

“There’s nothing to fix. I just need--”

“I greeted the Hunger.” It’s spat out, quickly and vehemently, and Davenport pulls back. He stares down at her, feels his heart leap into his chest. “When it came for this world. Everyone was running and screaming, but I couldn’t. I couldn’t _flee_. I didn’t want to. Everything hurt, and I was so tired. And I-- I just let it come into the city. I just let it kill _everyone_.”

Something squeezes in his chest, flaring outward, and Davenport can’t stop himself. “Good,” he spits, and Lucretia looks up at him. Frightened, intrigued, confused. It only fuels his anger, “Good. They deserved that. They deserved _all of it_.”

“Captain--”

“What did they do, Lucretia?” He’s shaking now, vibrating in his rage. He should have been the one to take that punishment, and yet he can’t seem to find anymore anger to direct at her. She doesn’t deserve it; he can see that now. His heart pounds, blood rushing in his ears. “What did they do? What was their _righteous_ punishment?”

“You took the Light.” Her voice breaks. “It’d been here only a few months, but they treasured it. They saw it as a gift. They--” She’s repeating things he already knows. They _all_ already know. But still he lets her continue; he lets her ramble. Sometimes, it’s just something you _have to do_. “Gods, they used it as nothing more than a _battery_ , as if they had no real idea what the fuck it was good for. That’s the worst part. That’s…”

“They didn’t even know what it was.”

“And still they demanded blood.” She shakes her head, hugs her legs closer to her chest. She turns away, lips curling into a snarl. “Or a-- a _replacement_. They wanted a replacement.”

He freezes as it clicks, staring down at her. For a moment, he can’t speak; can’t force out the words he wants so badly to say. Part of him selfishly grateful that she left for him; dying was one thing, but enduring gods knew how long as a living battery? He can’t even imagine. He doesn’t _want to_. The other part of him aches to resolve this. It should have been him. It should have been him suffering so his team could escape.

Davenport can feel the anger swelling beneath his skin, boiling within his blood. He wants to rage. He wants to scream, to turn this ship _around_ and help the Hunger destroy the plane. Fuck them. Fuck them, and fuck their need for a damned _battery_.

“I couldn't move.”

He looks up at her, and feels his anger ebb. Her eyes are so wide, so lost. She’s not there, he realizes; he’s seen it enough with Taako and Magnus and Barry to know what he’s looking at. He kneels in front of her, “Do you need me to go get Magnus, Lucretia? Taako, or Lup?” She shakes her head, slowly. She’s still not quite all there, but he can see her processing his words. He can see her putting everything together, even if it takes an extra second. “Take all the time you need. I’m not going anywhere.”

She shudders, leaning back her head back, closing her eyes. Lucretia opens her mouth, as if to speak, but nothing comes for a solid three seconds. Then, “Actually, I-- do you mind? Can you bring Maggie in? I don’t want to go through this twice. I can’t, Captain. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize.” He jumps from atop his desk, giving her a gentle glance, before moving across his office. “I’ll be right back, okay? Are you going to be all right?”

Lucretia nods.

* * *

“She wants you.”

Magnus glances up, looking over the tip of his cards, and frowns. Davenport stands in the doorway, hands shoved in his coat pockets. He’s shaking; they all can see that. The tips of his ears are dark, flicking occasionally. Magnus glances across at Taako, at Lup, and the twins both nod in his direction. He returns the nod and, slowly, pushes himself onto his feet. He murmurs a “be right back” and moves to his Captain’s side.

“How’s she doing?”

Davenport opens his mouth, only to close it after a moment or two. He turns his head away from Magnus, keeps his eyes focused on the hallway separating Magnus’ room from his own.

“I thought so.”

He can’t stop himself. The anger inside, burning, clawing its way out of his chest. Davenport’s hands clench down by side, “Some places deserve to burn.”

He doesn’t know what he’s expecting as a response. For Magnus to disagree with him, to try to speak the goodness within? They both know it won’t work; sometimes you just have to scream and try to fight the universe. Sometimes you have to give into rage and wrath and demand that _someone somewhere_ make it right. They can’t undo what’s been done, but they sure as hell can relish in its destruction. Sometimes, he muses, wrath is _earned_.

“Twice over,” Magnus adds, and Davenport turns to look at him. There’s something burning the young man’s eyes; something Davenport can’t recall seeing before. Not like this. The boy turns those dark eyes onto him and adds, “I knew something wasn’t quite right. What happened?”

“That’s hers to tell.”

Though he looks as though he wants to argue, Magnus keeps his mouth shut. Davenport opens the door to his office, motioning once more for his crewmate to enter first, before shutting and locking the door behind him. Lucretia is where Davenport left her, curled up in the armchair, her chin resting gently on her knees. She brightens, just a little, upon seeing the two, and forces a smile.

“Hey, Luce.” He moves next to her, kneeling beside her chair, and places a hand on the armrest. She doesn’t touch him, but leans closer. “How you doing?”

“Tired.” She looks over at Davenport. He doesn’t go to sit at his desk, but instead hops up, perched on the edge. “Thanks, Pops.”

He nods, though it’s quick, tense. She looks away, gripping the hem of her dress once more. Her stomach churns, nausea rising, but she forces it back down. Everything must be recorded, she tells herself. Everything must be told.

“Where do you want me to start?”

Magnus glances over at Davenport, who takes a deep breath before, “Wherever you feel comfortable starting.”

“The beginning, then.”


	2. Frozen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> cw for disassociation 

The trial wasn’t what she expected, and that scares her. They’d determined against death; a death wouldn’t bring back the power the Light offered, though it certainly would satisfy a few of the elders. Instead, they wanted a replacement. They want something to replace the power they’d lost. Only then is she grateful neither Davenport nor Magnus had come; they didn’t have enough magic to handle what is being demanded of _her_. She doesn’t even have enough magic, but it’s okay. It will all be okay. She can handle this. She will make it through for them.

They lead her from the trial and into a room far from others. The guards are gentle with her, though they refuse to address her; instead, they speak around her, about her, without ever directing even a question her way. She stands perfectly still, letting them remove her red robe, though they leave her dress where it remains. This is not about humiliation, an elder explains; this is simply to make sure she can receive the gifts and return it to their people. _Her_ people now, though her skin crawls at the thought. They will never be hers.

The same elder clasps a band around her throat, one that jingles with ornate decorations. She closes her eyes tightly.

“Step forward, please,” he says, and she does as commanded. Her crewmates names are a mantra in her head. “You must be in the heart of the city for this to take effect.”

She isn’t sure what she’s expecting, but whatever happens-- it isn’t like anything she’s experienced before. Despite her eyes being closed, her vision goes white. Pain erupts throughout her entire being, and Lucretia feels as though she’s being torn apart. Her heart is pulled one way, her mind another. Her chest burns as she struggles to breathe, and then suddenly cannot breathe at all. Around her, she can hear people murmuring once more, but can’t make out their words. A buzzing grows in her head, louder and louder until it’s a constant hum.

It takes her days to realize the humming is voices layered atop each other; the voices and thoughts of the people of the city. It takes a week for her vision to clear, and suddenly she can see everything at once. The city, the people who roam its streets, the elders discussing mundane matters. There’s a bubble around the city, one that wasn’t there before, but as soon as she sees it she knows it’s her own doing. Abjuration magic, focused through her veins, her blood, her body. Her strongest spell, casted across the entire city.

She doesn’t know how long she remains there. She can feel her body, but only distantly; feel others move around her, hear them murmuring words she can’t make out in a language she doesn’t understand. Her body needs food and water, but no one is able to come close enough to provide those things. She feels her physical form growing weaker, but she only grows stronger, tapping into magic she didn’t know she had. It’s the magic alone that keeps her from withering away. Arcane power she didn’t even know she could _use_.

She watches as days turn into weeks, and then months. Festivals come and go. Weddings are celebrated, funerals held. All around here there is life and safety, but never once can she interact. She tries. She tries to reach out to the people, to let them know she’s there, but those she touch reject her in a fit of fear and rage. In the end, she pulls within herself, builds up those walls. Is this was Cycle 65 was preparing her for? This _aching loneliness_?

It was easier then. At least she knew to run. At least she knew that all who approached her meant her harm, and she had to remain alone to remain alive. Here, it’s different. It’s bitter, and every day that passes only causes rage to build. She’s here, and they know it. She is providing them safety and comfort, powering all she can reach, and still they turn from her. They ignore her.

Even the elders’ visits become more and more infrequent. She is stable, they say, and thus can be left. Eventually, “the girl” becomes “the power source.” She into _it_. Six months in, and she’s forgotten about entirely. She becomes nothing more than a watcher, a protector. A _battery_ to keep this city in comfort.

Eight months in, and the Hunger attacks.

She can feel its approach, feel its darkness creeping along the edges of her shield. Its voice-- _voices_?-- whisper to her. At first they’re threats, but that only strengthens her shield. These are her people. This is her city. But over the hours, the whispers shift. A community, it offers; a place among it. A chance to leave her place of objectivation and become part of something greater. To have a _purpose_ again, instead of just life as an object. She only has to let it consume this realm, consume these people, and she will be amongst their ranks.

In the end, it wears on her.

So many days without contact, so many hours without anyone even looking at her. The rage and bitterness break through, and she drops the barrier. Their screams are music to her ears, and a male voice coos its praises. It’s enough to make her sob.

But before it can reach her, she feels her body splitting, her mind being pulled from the town. The last thing she hears before reforming is a scream of _rage,_ and the last whimpers of a people who survived for far too long.

* * *

“I’m sorry,” her voice breaks as she does, and Lucretia buries her face in her hands. Her shoulders tremble as she struggles to find the words to express her horror, her rage, her sorrow. “I didn’t mean to. I gave into the Hunger. I let it kill all those people. I--”

Magnus stands, his hands shaking. For a moment, he seems to waver, but then turns from the room. Lucretia curls in on herself as his footsteps, loud and strong, start to fade. There’s a crash, and Lucretia jumps. Her eyes find Davenport, but the gnome is looking behind her, towards his door. Slammed shut, with a certain fighter raging behind it. He will deal with that later. Lucretia’s vision blurs with tears, and she buries her face in her knees.

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s not you,” Davenport murmurs, but it sounds distant. Lucretia isn’t sure if it’s him or her, but she can’t bring herself to look up. “He’s not upset at you.”

“Don’t leave.” Lucretia can’t stop her voice from breaking. When she looks up at him, he meets her gaze. Try as she might to focus, she can’t blink the tears away. The room is spinning; her heart pounding in her chest. She has to keep herself together. “Please don’t leave.”

“I won’t.”

It takes patience to make Lucretia leave the chair, to leave his office. She’s not focusing, not able to keep her attention on him, but he guides her. She flinches from his hand at first, but then takes it. Lets him lead her from his office into his room, where they spent so many hours pouring over star maps and quizzing each other on the stars of their current system. There’s no time for that now, though. He leads her to his bedside, grabbing up a few blankets, and builds a small pallet. There, he sits. Motions for her to join him.

She’s slower with her actions, more deliberate, but lowers herself nonetheless. Lucretia curls on the floor beside him, resting her head in his lap. It’s not what he was expecting, but he lets it be. Gentle fingers run through her hair, and slowly her breathing calms. One hand finds his jacket, fingers playing with the hem, fresh as the day they left the two-sunned world. Their home.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” she finally says, and he glances down. Her eyes are closed, fingers running over the seam; finding comfort in the small things, he muses. “I don’t want you to ever think that I don’t-- I don’t respect you, or that I don’t love you.”

“Lucretia--”

“No. No, let me--” She takes a moment to breathe, to gather her thoughts. Her eyes open, but she stares at nothing, and soon closes them once more. “I didn’t do what I did to defy you, Captain. You and this crew mean the world to me. I thought… I thought if I could just _save you_ , then that would be enough. I don’t… I don’t always make the right decisions; I know that. I’m still learning. But I just wanted…”

“You wanted to protect us.”

She nods. Her little body curls against his, hand gripping his coat loosely,  “I’m sorry I ever made you feel like I don’t respect you. That was never my intention, Dad.”

“I know.”

“I love you.”

“I know, Lucy.”

* * *

When he enters the kitchen, Merle is already waiting for him. He offers out a cup of tea, a small glass of whiskey already poured for himself. Despite the curiosity in his eyes, he’s kind enough to wait for Davenport to join him at the bar before asking, “How’s she doin’?”

“Asleep.” He wraps his hands around the cup, but doesn’t drink. Not yet. He simply takes a moment to enjoy the warmth, to let it spread from his fingertips and through his entire body. Warming a part of him he hadn’t known had grown so cold. “Not sure for how long, though.”

He nods, taking a quick sip. His face scrunches briefly. “That’s the worst shit I’ve ever put in my mouth. Well—”

“No.”

“Dav.”

“Nope.” He shakes his head, eyes closing briefly, and tries to ignore the way his stomach twists as Merle laughs. Heat rushes to his ears. “I’m not having this conversation.”

The dwarf laughs again, but thankfully lets the conversation drop, choosing to change the topic. “Saw Magnus runnin’ off this way. Can’t say the kid looked too happy.” A brief pause. “Everything go okay in there?”

Davenport shakes his head. He takes a deep breath, sipping from his tea, before admitting, “I… I don’t know. We now know what happened last cycle, but it’s… Magnus took it pretty hard.”

“They _are_ just kids, Dav.”

“Not anymore.” It hurts to say it; it _hurts_ to admit it. Lucretia and Magnus are the youngest of their crew, but they’ve all endured over seventy cycles. Some have died part of the way through; others have made it through most. But they’re all still learning and growing and suffering. All because he can’t figure out how to end it. “None of them are children anymore.”

Merle doesn’t say anything; not for a long moment. He simply sips his whiskey, glancing over the rim of his glass. In the end, Davenport realizes he doesn’t _have_ to say anything. They both know what the other is thinking.

But instead of saying what he wants, Merle simply shrugs. “Kids all gotta die sometime. That’s how this fucked up place works. Speaking of! I got a date with John, and--”

“She didn’t die.”

“--I’m not planning on miss-- I’m sorry _what_.”

“She didn’t die.” His hands tighten on the cup. The tea ripples within. “I don’t know if that’s better or-- _worse_. It’s so much worse, Merle. We thought she was dead, but she survived the _entire cycle_ ”

“We didn’t abandon her.”

Davenport closes his eyes tightly, cursing the dwarf. He hates it. He _hates_ how well Merle seems to know. Hates how oblivious Merle acts, when really he knows every member of their crew like the back of his beard. How well Merle seems to know _him._ It’s unnerving, and yet somehow uncomfortably comforting.

“That’s what it feels like,” he finally says, and brings the teacup up to his lips. Warm, with a hint of milk and honey; just like he likes his tea. Gods damn that dwarf. “We left her in the hands of people who just...”

“We didn’t know.” He reaches over, resting a hand on Davenport’s arm, and the Captain doesn’t have the energy to pull away. Instead, he takes a moment to observe his tea, enjoying its warmth and comfort; enjoying Merle’s company, though he could never admit it. “You didn’t know, Dav. There is no way we could have known. There ain’t no reason for you to take all of this onto yourself, not when there’s enough of us to share the blame.”

When he doesn’t say anything, Merle simply nods, patting his arm.

“Tell ya what,” he says, and pushes from the bar. “You take a minute to simply enjoy your tea, collect your thoughts. If you want, you can go talk to Magnus, or wait for him to come talk to you. I’ll go check on the kid, yeah?”

“She’s expecting me to be there when she wakes up.”

He’s already heading for the door, shrugging, “I’ll just tell her you needed to get somethin’ to eat. We just reformed, Dav. She’ll understand.”

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

But Merle is already gone.

* * *

Magnus is sitting on the observation deck when Davenport finally manages to find him. _Taako told me you’d be here_ , he wants to say. _Lup was worried sick. Barry thought you’d run off._ But instead of saying anything, the captain moves to his chief of security’s side. For a moment, he simply stands there, hands clasped behind his back, eyes staring out at the unknown stars as the chill creeps through the glass. Goosebumps dot Magnus’ skin; his hands are shaking. How long has he been out here?

He extends a hand, resting it on the boy’s shoulder. Magnus doesn’t just, doesn’t even move, simply grunts his acknowledgment. It’s enough.

“How is she?”

“Asleep.” Davenport shakes his head, giving Magnus’ shoulder a gentle squeeze. “But it doesn’t matter right now. All-- all right, don’t give me that look. It _matters_. Of course it does. But I’m… I’m here to check on you. It’s not like you to rush _out_.”

It’s a poor joke, but one that earns a half-laugh from the boy. His shoulders still sag, and he still leans forward. Head in his hands, he manages, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I know she… I know she needs me, but I can’t-- Not after hearing all of that. Not after…”

“Magnus, this isn’t about her.” He sits finally, resting a hand on each leg. Deep breath. 1, 2, 3. Remember what Merle said. Remember what he told you, and relay that onward. “You are… you are taking too much of this onto yourself. We couldn’t have known.”

“We should have. We should have gone after her. We…” Magnus turns his gaze onto him, and Davenport can see tears welling in his eyes. His hands are shaking; such big hands, desperate to protect them, worn down from battles he’d fought and friends he’d lost. “We just let this happen. We just let her _suffer_.”

“No, we didn’t.” He keeps his words firm, his voice gentle. His fingers begin to drum a pattern on his knees, a rhythm he’d had since he was a child. Something to keep his mind focused, even when things threatened to overwhelm him, like they are now. “We didn’t know. They wanted repercussions. The only thing-- the only thing we could have thought they--”

“She couldn’t handle it. She’s not…” The words get lost in his throat, and Davenport hears him choke. “We left her there! We were supposed to protect her. _I_ was supposed to protect her. That’s not her job.”

“You two are too much alike for your own good.” This time, it’s him that smiles, and he doesn’t know if it’s from pride or a soured sense of humor. Davenport shakes his head, tilting his head back, to look at the stars. A quiet sigh escapes. He can’t name these. This galaxy, these starfields are so different from the ones back home. From the last two planes, ten planes. They used to bring him such comfort, but now? In this moment, they’re a bitter reminder of the purgatory they’ve found themselves in. “She worries about you, Magnus. We all worry about you, and… I cannot speak for her, but…” Why is it so hard to speak now? “Perhaps this was her simply trying to protect _you_.”

“She doesn’t have to!” It comes out as more of a sob than a scream, and Davenport’s ears pin against the back of his head. Cool. He’s just totally said the wrong thing, even if it was the truth. Especially if it was the truth. “That’s my job. It’s _always_ been my job to protect her. Since we were kids, since school, I-- I couldn’t protect her last time, and I couldn’t protect her this time. I’m head of security, and I…”

Davenport’s mind reels as he struggles to think of something to say. What route does he take? What route _can_ he take? Their Captain? Can he come to them as just Davenport? Their-- Can he even think of them as the father figure he’s become? Gods know Magnus and Lucretia call him Dad enough. He has to find a balance. Is there a balance? He has to be personal. He has to be professional. He is hurting just as much as the rest of them, but he can’t show it. Can he?

“This isn’t your burden to carry,” Davenport finally says, closing his eyes. “It is none of ours. She made a decision.”

“She shouldn’t have had to.”

“No,” agrees the Captain, and he leans his arm just slightly against the other. A rare moment of touch, of comfort, for a crew who had long since become a family. “She shouldn’t have, and she didn’t have to. But it was a decision she made, and she followed through. Her decision is not yours to carry. You can help her heal. You can be there for you, but her _decisions_ are not your _blame_. Is that understood, Magnus?”

He bobs his head in a nod, then leans down, to rest his temple against the top of Davenport’s head. It can’t be comfortable, and yet the boy remains, desperate for that contact, that assurance. Davenport sighs, his tail coming to lay across his lap, and finally allows himself to sink into the touch.

“I’m sorry, Dad.”

“Don’t be. You have nothing to apologize for.”

* * *

Alone.

She’s alone, buried beneath the town they’d called hers. No one reaches out to her. No one speaks to her. She has spent _months_ protecting them, and yet none of them even take a moment to think of her. It’s as enraging as it is demoralizing. She’s long since past wanting to be thanked; all she wants is to be noticed. And, eventually, she is, but not by the people she wants to be. By _him._

 _You don’t have to be alone anymore._ The voice is so gentle, so kind. Softer than she was expecting. When she’d expected the Hunger, she had expected something strong, something menacing. But this voice was so kind, she reaches for it. _You can be with us. You can be part of something big._

“I already am,” she responds, but it comes out hollow. “I have a family.”

 _Then where are they, little one?_ Another voice, the same one, but-- but different, multiplied somehow. _Where have they been, while you have been restrained here?_ _Running away, it seems. Trying to escape this plane, while you suffer for them. They’ve abandoned you again._

Tendrils encase her, invisible and yet somehow so very dark. They claw at her throat, suffocating her, smothering her. They threaten to tear her apart, all the while the voice coos at her, promising all she’s wanted. Promising her relief from this hell, release. She doesn’t have to be alone anymore. And they’re here, now. They’re the ones who came for her. All she has to do is let them in, and she will forever be a part of them. The walls around the city slowly start to crumble, her barrier fading, and soon the people’s screams fill her ears. The Hunger’s voice drowns them out, until at last the darkness creeps into her chambers.

Pain erupt from her chest, and Lucretia _screams_ , bolting up. She doesn’t remember swinging; she doesn’t remember trying to attack an intruder or defend herself. All she knows is once the world stops spinning, her arm is in the air, Merle’s hand gentle around her wrist, and she’s shaking. For once, she’s glad she isn’t the type to wield anything more than a wand, and even that is back in her room. Her stomach churns in horror and guilt. Like the nightmares back after Cycle 65, only this time she avoided nearly killing someone.

“It’s all right, kiddo.” Merle’s fingers uncurl from around her wrist, releasing her hand, and she pushes herself up. Once she’s stable, he plops down next to her, back against Davenport’s bed, and motions uselessly to the area around him. “You know where we are, yeah?”

It takes her a second, but eventually Lucretia nods. Bookshelves lined with scrolls and starmaps, accented by a few items of decor. A desk with fidget toys littered across paperwork. The lingering smell of jasmine wafts under her nose, warming her to the core, chasing away the last of the Hunger’s dark whispers. Davenport’s room. She’s safe here.

“Good. Good, at least ya didn’t lose all your marbles.” He reaches over, resting a hand on her knee. She reaches down without hesitation, to intertwine their fingers. _Keep me grounded_ , she wants to say, but can’t make the words form. Merle seems to understand nonetheless and tightens his grip on her hands, squeezing gently, and rests his second atop both. “You’re all right, kiddo. You’re safe. Ain’t nothin’ gunna touch you while you’re on this ship.”

Lucretia leans against him, curling tight, and brings one of the blankets from beneath her feet to around her ankles. Merle frees one of his hands to help her, allowing it to drape across the both of them, and leans his head to rest gently against hers. That done, his hand returns, to rest atop hers. She lays her head on his shoulder, and for a few moments, the two just sit there in complete, comfortable silence. Eventually Merle shifts, to wrap his arm around her shoulders, and Lucretia glances up at him. She tries to open her mouth, tries to say anything at all, but the words just won’t come.

 _Davenport_? She signs quickly, instead. They had long since learned a form of basic sign language, just in case they needed to communicate without saying a word. _Is he okay_?

“Just needed to get something to eat, Luce. Don’t you worry about him. You know how cranky he gets without his early cycle snack.”

His hand pats her shoulder gently, and Lucretia lowers herself back into position. She’s so tired. Even though she knows she should get up and do something, anything, she’s tired. She can’t force herself to do anything but stay awake. Her limbs feel heavy. It’s difficult enough to raise her hand and sign the words she needs to, so what else could she do? Exhausted, nonverbal, coming down off of a nightmare, she was essentially useless to the crew. She turns her sights to Merle instead. She needs answers.

 _What is the Hunger like_?

He starts at her question, flinching back slightly. Warm hazel eyes glance down at her, and Lucretia can see him thinking. Either trying to figure out what she means, or what he wants to say. Knowing Merle, it could easily be both. He’s the only one to meet the Hunger face to face, to speak to it, to try to understand it. And despite all of his efforts, it killed him, time and time again, until finally he had just given up. He hadn’t shared many of the intimate details of those meetings, not around her, but she knows enough. She knows it has a name. She’s heard it used to be a man. She’s heard Merle himself say there’s nothing left of him.

“That’s a dangerous question, kiddo,” murmurs the dwarf. He tightens his grip around her, tugging her closer, and Lucretia rests her head against his chest. She can hear his heartbeat, muffled by the sheer volume of his beard. For a brief moment, she remembers the night before their mission began; the night they spent in that seedy biker bar, when he’d ushered her to safety and kept her protected. They seem to always be protecting her. “Why d’you wanna know?”

_It spoke to me._

He starts once more, fingers tightening one her shoulder. Not painful, not enough to even sting, but she flinches nonetheless. The dwarf offers a gentle apology, but it’s hollow. Not out of insincerity; nothing as cruel as that. She can see the way his eyes darken, the way he presses his lips together. The way his beard twitches as he struggles not to express whatever thoughts have crossed his mind.

 _I’m sorry_.

“No, no, kiddo,” he finally says, and pats her arm. “Ain’t no reason to be sorry. That… Hell, I’m the one who should be sorry. Sorry you had to meet him that way, or that you had to meet him at all. He ain’t… He ain’t exactly the type you need to be around, Creesh. He says a lot of shit, but ain’t none of it mean a damned thing.”

 _I--_ Nimble fingers falter as his voice comes back; whispering in her ear, multiplying as it promises her so much. Promises it didn’t intend to keep, more than likely. She points desperately at him, struggling to sign his name as everything seems to shatter. _Merle. Merle. Merle. Merle. M. E. R. L. E._

It had known what she wanted, and that was enough to make her heart leap into her throat. Her breathing quickens. All around her, the world seems to shift, splintering. Her body remains laying against him, fingers signing out his name again and again in a silent prayer, but her mind seems to go elsewhere. Above them, floating uselessly. Darkness encroaches on her vision, until all she can see through the black and shimmering colors is the two of them. Still in Davenport’s room, still huddled together. She wants to scream at him to save her, to bring her back. She can’t be lost to the Hunger. She can’t be lost to the darkness. She just wants to be safe and home again.

Lucretia watches as he turns to her, as he takes her face in his hands. She watches as he searches her eyes for something that isn’t there, and then stands. Slowly he moves across the room, dimming the lights, lifting a fidget toy from Davenport’s desk. He hesitates only briefly before retreating to the gnome’s closet and reappearing with a larger, much fluffier blanket than the one currently around her shoulders. All the while he’s talking, murmuring gentle things she can’t quite hear. Her senses are dulled, and all she can hear is fuzz, like water rushing in a nearby stream.

Still, the dwarf moves next to her, kneels to drape the blanket over her shoulders. He takes the fidget, an egg-shaped gelatinous toy, and places it in her hands. Her fingertips tingle as she starts to fiddle with it automatically. Slowly, light returns to the edge of her vision. She can feel the weight of the blanket, hear Merle’s words more clearly. She can feel his fingers weaving through her hair, taking sections of her braids and braiding them together.

“Don’t you even start,” he says, as she raises a hand to apologize. It falls back into her lap. He takes another section of her hair and works it into the braid. “Shit like that is never something to apologize for. You’re here, Creesh. You’re here, and you’re safe. That’s all that matters.”

She doesn’t bother finishing the apology. She doesn’t have to. Lucretia simply sinks against Merle, fingers working with the putty. She’s here, and she’s safe. She’s safe. The Hunger can’t touch the Starblaster, she tells herself, and it will never touch her family. She’ll make sure of that.


End file.
